tremor
by daisherz365
Summary: There was a time when she had been hopeful, hopeful that everything had a silverlining. However this was not it. Some side effects are permanent...she was realizing. Sherlolly SherlockxMolly
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Tremor**

**Fandom: BBC Sherlock**

**Pairing: Sherlolly, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper**

**Synopsis: There was a time when she had been hopeful, hopeful that everything had a silverlining. However this was not it. Some side effects are permanent...she was realizing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I only take ownership of this plotbunny in all it's complexity. Please enjoy it.**

part **one**/five

_Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop._

The sound seemed to be the only thing that was registering in her brain as the shaking pathologist walked almost on autopilot towards the door that she hadn't been to it seemed like in a decade. It never really registered in her head that no one could be there. Baker Street was closer than her home and she hadn't been thinking.

There hadn't really been any time. It was just her body reacting to her situation or what it chose to fight to keep away from the front of her head. Just for a moment.

There is a buzzing now, coming from as she looked down at her feet her finger pressing against the buzzer several times. She hears a voice but she really doesn't notice it as places her hand down to her side and turns away slightly. She's gone back inside of her head. There are pictures there flickering around like a movie giving her a replay of what she can recall. What she will recall at the present.

The door opens and there is a familiar voice but it as if she can't hear it, or him rather. John Watson looks both alarmed and relieved to see what he can of the woman standing in front of the door. It has been a long month of inquiries of her whereabouts.

She's here now. John calls her name again but with no answer he reluctantly reaches out and grabs her hand and pulls her gently inside. It is when she is turned towards him and the door is closed that his mouth opens up and he finds himself yelling for his flatmate who is churning a tune on his violin. "SHERLOCK!"

He turned away as not to shout at her. She looks disoriented he notices but that is not what worries him the most. It's what is on her person. What hasn't been washed away as of yet from the downpour outside.

There is a sound of footsteps as Sherlock Holmes' lanky form walks towards the open doorway at the top of the stairs. It takes the man a moment to look past his best mate who is looking rather worse for wear. He doesn't think much of it until he sees the woman standing just behind him not exactly looking any better.

He resists the urge to deduce what is clearly obvious when he notices the falter of the way she is standing. He yells for John to grab her as she is falling backwards. He does so ungracefully due to how unexpected the fall was for him. It had been obvious.

Sherlock moves back in the central location of what is home before joining John below. He is carrying a large blanket in his arms. He doesn't stare at his friend as he takes the wet form of Molly Hooper out of his grasp and wraps her in the blanket carefully before hoisting her in his arms and up the stairs.

He hesitates a moment before going towards his own bedroom and placing there on his bed. He turns back only a fraction of a moment to make sure she isn't going to fall off before joining his friend in their sitting quarters. He doesn't sit. He plans to make things comfortable for the lady who looked lost mere moments before.

"Did you know it had been a month, Sherlock?"

Sherlock walks over to the window gazing briefly outside as he speaks. "I don't forget things like that. We did try to look for her, it seemed that she was hidden somewhere we couldn't find ...unfortunately."

"Can you tell what happened?"

"From what is visible and the way she seems disconnected it is highly probable that she was tortured somewhere. The effects are at an unknown. The why is still unclear as well. I won't know more until I can actually see her. I have a feeling finding out what happened won't be as easy as I would like. There is something wrong."

"Wrong? You mean besides the fact that Molly Hooper disappeared for an entire month only to come back down soaking wet and covered in blood."

"Yes John, that is exactly what I'm saying." Sherlock takes a pause and turns in the direction of the his bedroom. "She was out in the rain for awhile. It would be best to get her into some warm clothes."

John stared at Sherlock for a moment before noticing that his friend didn't plan on doing that part himself. He sighed before getting up and heading towards the bedroom where their friend lay unconscious. John was quick about changing Molly into a pair of Sherlock's large cotton t-shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms. He towel dried her hair as to keep her from getting worse off that she was currently. He knew she would probably be sick when she woke up. It least they could take a few precautions.

He wrapped tossed the wet blanket away and tucked her under the comforts of the warm sheets. John didn't pretend not to notice the lacterations marks that were in her skin. He saw many of them.

It was only when he left the room did he comment on it. "We may need to call in a specialist." He mumbled as he sat back down in his chair. He watched Sherlock look over him with a look of utter repulsion and confusion on his face.

"Why would we do that?"

"This is beyond what I am capable of, Sherlock. There was something that I saw. We don't know for sure but I have seen this before once and I couldn't do anything for him."

"What exactly do you think we're dealing with?"

"I don't want to say unless I'm sure. You did say you felt something was off. I suppose we'll see exactly what we're dealing with tomorrow." John said as he shut his eyes.

That couldn't be anywhere further from the truth, Sherlock concluded the following day as he found himself staring at a sight. It had been suggested by Mrs. Hudson upon hearing of the new tenant residing within 221B that someone should bring food to Molly. It's a nice thing to do she gathered.

John had left early because of hours he had picked up at the clinic. That left Sherlock alone with someone he had come to see of much greater importance than a few years ago. He had come to call her a friend. A much lesser important friend than John was to him at first but she had been a great companion to have at times. The fact that despite her actions before when it came to him they had come to an compass.

The sight before him both shocked him into action and nearly made him step back out his bedroom. Molly Hooper was awake - sitting straight up but the feeling from last night seemed more weak now that he was seeing it first hand.

Molly didn't even look up as Sherlock entered the room, her body was shaking. It wasn't what one would deem as a shiver from the cold. Instead it worse. It was close to trembling but it wasn't her whole form. It almost resembled the effects of a seizure but Sherlock dismissed that thought as he placed the tray on the ground and crouched down in front of her. "Molly." He called, testing to see if she could hear him or would react.

Molly didn't turn at his voice. She seemed to be lost somewhere. Just like before downstairs the previous night.

Sherlock wracked his mind for something that would stop the shaking. He could almost pinpoint what it was. As John had mentioned the night before he didn't want to do something wrong and misdiagnose it.

He tilted his head to the side as he thought of what to do. It wasn't something he was accustomed to doing. It made me uncomfortable and unease but he wanted it to stop.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, the right one seeing as that's where it looked to be at it's worse. It was then that it gradually stopped. She looked at him then. Though she didn't say anything, just as he had thought. She just stared at him, blinking.

Sherlock took his hand away quietly, filing away what he had uncovered in his mind palace and reaching for the tray again.

"Here. Eat." He spoke quietly as he placed the tray in her lap and stood. He watched her glance at it before looking towards the window. She looked vaguely attentive. That was good.

He didn't stay to watch and see what she would do, however that seemed to be something he should do. He needed to watch her but he had something slightly more pressing to get to first.

He sat at his desk and logged onto his computer and went onto a search online. He had very little data on the subject, he needed more information.

He typed just six little letters before hitting enter:

_**tremor.**_

**Well I was gonna just write the whole thing out as a one-shot but this is a heavy one and with the finale of Doctor Who just hours away (for those of us in the US of A) I couldn't do that to myself. Instead this one will be told in five chapters.**

**Interested? Please drop a little note in the review box below, I would really appreciate it.**

**much love,**

**day**


	2. Chapter 2

**tremor.**

part _**two**_/of five.

She could remember it now as she lay awake that first night lying in a man's bed that she once wished could save her. It was thought as silly to wish for things like that. Especially at her age but not every woman her age had been through her hell the past month. No one could say that.

Her eyes were closed but she could feel it again. It had been worse than walking through the rain to end up here inside Baker St. When she had woken up on the ground in what appeared to be a river, she remembered feeling both afraid and grateful that she was still alive.

Her body had hurt like hell but she told herself that she couldn't stay there. It wasn't safe either. She struggled to push herself up from the cold murky water and to her feet. She didn't look at herself all that much. Just keep moving, she told herself.

She didn't get far from the river before she had to stop. It was then that she took into the fact that something hurt more than it should. It made her feel like a child to think that way but she did. She found an old shed to lean up against on a back road. Molly knew it hadn't been a safe area but she had to know how bad it was gonna be to keep going.

She didn't take off anything she just shut her eyes and focused on the areas that she felt the most agony. The first was her ribs. She felt like they had been twisted and possibly shattered. That led her to believe she probably had problems with her lungs. It was as she was reaching up towards her face did she feel the scarring of much worse matters. She needed to breath , yes.

It was what she felt around her neck. It caused her to shake as she could faintly regain that memory of what happened to cause that.

It was then without looking any further for anymore damage that she shut down. Her body began moving on it's own again. On autopilot until she found herself waking up here in a foreign room. It wasn't entirely different from the outer rooms she figured but she didn't move to look around.

She just lay there awhile wishing that she could move again and possibly get out of there. It was a stupid decision to come here but she wasn't thinking nor had she been able to after realizing that she didn't die. She had been let go.

She rolled over onto her stomach and her mouth formed an 'o'old but nothing came out. This was another thing she was remembering. It was the reason she had shut down by the shed. She couldn't make a noise. Not anymore. They had taken that from her.

That hurt more than the feeling of her lungs being crushing as she pushed herself over again only to tumble down into air and her body hitting the wooden floors. She shut her eyes again and tried not to cry.

There was someone rushing towards the room but she had ignored their footsteps as she pushed herself up on her side. The door had opened and the person had walked in but she continued to ignore them as she leant back onto the side of the bed.

She had to look pathetic to them whichever it was. It would just be here luck that it would be the man that this room belonged to.

He crouched down in front of her but didn't say a word. She just sat there unblinking staring at the periodic table on his wall.

Sherlock considered to leave her there and go wake John but decided that it wouldn't be a good idea. He surveyed her person again and was slightly surprised to feel the slightest twinge at how better she looked considering.

He noticed the way her right arm was wrapped around her midsection. Her ribs had been harmed in some way. He chose to ignore the rest of it as he plopped down in front of her and stared. The shaking was gone, he noted.

Sherlock decided that trying to speak with her wouldn't be entirely bad. "Do you..." he started but changed his mind. "Are you ..." He sighed in frustration as he tried to come up with a way to form his question without causing a negative reaction. "You have a tremor." He said after another moment of complete silent.

She blinked but didn't turn to acknlowedge what he had said to her. It made him frown that he wasn't equipped with how to handle these matters. Women were too complicated. Women going through trauma were complex. He rather not deal with either but he was trying to help a friend.

"Can you hear me at all?"

Molly just at there. It was as if nothing was registering in her head. Sherlock sighed and tried to think of another approach when he felt. She hadn't touched him. No they never touched. It was on the ground and it felt like there was a small earthquake. He looked over to the side where her other arm lay beside her.

It was trembling horribly.

Sherlock had managed to quite a bit of reading while before he had to rush in here. He knew that most tremors started because of fear or recollection of a traumatic event resurface.

That was why he forced himself to lean towards her and tilt his head to the side so that she could see him. Or so he hoped she would. She turned away then.

Oh.

There was something, at least. She was still there at least. She was ignoring him.

"What are you thinking about, Molly? What happened to you? I can't begin to help if you won't speak to me. Can't you do that?"

Molly looked down then and nibbled at her bottom lip. She was thinking.

When fifteen minutes went by with not a word, he stood up and looked down at her. He was annoyed. Give him a little progress and then false hope comes into play. "I'm gonna leave you now. I can't help you. You won't let me. I don't understand why. You only have to talk. That isn't that hard."

Sherlock turned then without another word and left Molly there on the ground.

That was good that he did that, Molly concluded within the next couple seconds because then she was shaking with only the horrible tremor she hadn't even realized was there, she was shaking from the sobs that were wracking her body. What hurt the most was not the pain from her ribs as her body rocked back and forth. It was the fact that she couldn't hear her own cries. It was just happening.

The following day once afternoon came Molly slowly came to once again and decided she needed to get out of there. If not the flat then the room. She moved the sheet from off her and pushed herself to her feet. She slowly moved to the door and walked out. The hallway wasn't that large but she could see another door that she assumed was the bathroom.

She pushed it open and nodded in confirmation that it was indeed the exact place she thought it was. She shut the door behind her and stood in front of the medicine cabinet that also functioned as a mirror. She stared blankly at herself as she realized that it was her standing there looking worse for wear. She had forgotten what she looked like and in all honesty didn't want to know. The mirror was there and she had a glimpse of what she appeared to look like now. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Molly slide across the floor as she shuffled towards the shower and carefully stripped off the clothes she had been given to wear and slipped into the tub. She turned the knob slowly feeling her senses ignite as she felt the streams of warm water hit her body.

Her body just shivered as she got used to the temperature and ducked fully under it.

Outside in the living area of the flat sat a fully alert Sherlock Holmes. He had seen her small form as it emerged from his room and into the adjacent bathroom and now he was just waiting for her to come out. He wasn't fond of what occurred the night before but as his mother had said on few horrendous occasions, "tomorrow is a new day, let's not make the same mistakes twice."

He was currently sifting through the files of his mind palace looking for anything that could possibly help him today as he was alone in the flat now with Molly Hooper once again. He had sent John to find a specialist by the name of Dr. Marlena Kilpatrick. He had come across her in his night of research and figured it was best for him to see if she could be of any assistance. This was far from his area.

The shower had been cut off a few moments ago and so Sherlock found himself standing in front of the bathroom door with a pair of clothes in his arms. John had managed to find a pair of his sister's old clothes from when she had stayed a weekend when Sherlock was not around.

Sherlock had made a face but accepted the clothes on behalf of Molly and inspected them to see if they were suitable. They were. Harriet wasn't a outlandish woman who wore fancy garbs. She was the complete opposite causing Sherlock to think it was okay for Molly to be dressed in her clothes.

Molly had barely opened the door when the clothes were ushered in her arms and the door was closed once again by Sherlock himself. She ignored his behavior and went to work at putting on the clothes and drying her hair.

She came out feeling a bit refreshed but no near one hundred percent. She reluctantly made her way into the sitting room and talking a seat on the sofa. Sherlock wasn't in the vicinity at the moment so she felt a tad bit okay being there. However it didn't make her feel that she shouldn't just leave. She could do that.

It was his voice a few minutes later that caused her to not move towards the door. "I found someone you might be a little familiar with. Though he wasn't very forgiving towards me when I stumbled upon him. I wasn't very kind to him during my stay with you. He wasn't in your flat. I hadn't even made it there at all."

Molly knew what he was referring to but just waited until he was standing in front of her to look at him. There in his arm was her tabby, Toby. There were marks on the consulting detective face and a look of disgust as he placed the feline on the ground near Molly's feet.

The cat purred and circled around Molly's feet seeming to caress around her legs in a way of saying hello. Molly hesitated before reaching down and curling her hands in between the middle of it's ears and scratching there carefully. It purred in appreciation before sauntering off towards the direction of the kitchen.

Both adults didn't go after him. Instead Sherlock sat down at the edge of the table in front of Molly and observed her. He didn't say anything as he waited to see if she would do anything but she didn't. Instead she stared at him in a way that made him clear his throat and set about retrying what he attempted to do last night.

"I don't suppose you want to actually have one of those heart to heart conversations you liked to have with me on occasion. I, for just this once wouldn't exactly be unfond of that considering everything."

Molly opened her mouth only to shut it immediately. Sherlock only then noticed the slight strain in her eyes. It was as if she was trying to not do something. As if she had forgotten she was incapable of doing so. He looked at her curiously before standing up.

"No. Okay. You can just leave. What you're doing is worse than what Anderson does by just breathing."

Molly didn't even protest with him but did grab his hand as he looked to be about to move away from her. Molly had gotten to her feet and biting on her lips again as she lifted his hand towards her. Sherlock had begun to pull away only to stop himself when he realized she was reacting to him. He let her guide his hand to the side of her neck and move it along. He felt the rough area of a raggedy line.

He wanted to tilt her head backwards and see what he was feeling for himself both she had turned away from him once they reached the other side of her neck, dropped his hand and did had he asked before.

She walked right out of 221B.

**Well it is definitely longer than the first part but I did a leave a bit to be told in the next bit. We still got a bit more to go. Molly is dealing with a lot more than Sherlock can see and it's gonna get a little difficult for him to communicate if not already. It was hard for me to have him to tell her to leave but he'll make up for it, I promise. John Watson won't let him be an idiot for too long haha **

**I'm so overjoyed with the response to this, I really don't even know how to act. I really want to say thank you to all of you that have favorited and alerted this little fic so far. I hope I don't let you down. Please continue to let me know how you're feeling about this little number.**

**See you in part three.**

**much love,**

**day**


	3. Chapter 3

**tremor.**

part _**three**_/ of five

When it comes to medicine a side effect is seen as first and foremost a noun which in plain terms is any effect of a drug,chemical,or other medicine that is in addition to its intended effect,especially an effect that is harmful or unpleasant. However this is not the specific case for everyone. In the case of a certain pathologist is more so still a noun with it's meaning being any accompanying or consequential and usually detrimental effect.

Sherlock has added it to his file in his ever growing folder of one - Molly Anne Hooper, as he watches from the window of the top floor of 221B as the young woman seems to walk a little hesitantly down the street and out of his sight. He shuts his eyes as he remembers that John is due to be back in a matter of moments. This won't due.

The detective grabs a small bag from the closet in his bedroom and places his closed laptop in it along with a spare pair of clothes and a few other necessities. He needs not to be here when he arrives back here. He needs to be out looking for any kind of clue that could help him with this case. That is what this is in every aspect, he concludes.

He is at the door slipping on his long coat and tying the scarf around his neck. The door opens and he steps back trying to not seem like he wasn't startled or caught off guard by the sudden intrusion in his plan. Yes, he has one of those too.

There is his flatmate, alone. This surprises the taller gentleman and he stops what he's doing.

John looks at his friend. First seeing that he looks to be going out then at the bag that is stationed at his feet. "Where are you off to? You were going to leave Molly alone? I don't think that's a good idea right now."

Sherlock stopped him before he could get any further. "Molly isn't our problem anymore. She stepped out and therefore is roaming around the streets, I suppose."

"Sherlock, what did you do?" John frowned already suspecting that something had to have happened. Molly couldn't have just left. It doesn't make sense. She couldn't have.

"Why do you have to say it like that?"

"Because your history with Molly Hooper is not the best. You've caused her to scurry off crying on more than one ocassion. You say that things are different now but I'm not sure if I wholeheartedly believe that, yet. You let her leave here. That just doesn't sound right? I thought you'd be wanting to help her."

"Molly Hooper isn't seeking any help right now. That became quite clear quickly."

"Then why did she come here?"

John Watson was met with silence for precisely three minutes before Sherlock spoke again muttering a sentence he was getting irritatingly used to saying now. It was the second time he was uttering it in the course of twelve hours. "I haven't the slightest idea." He paused a brief moment before continuing. "However, any person trying to come back from trauma or seeking safety retreats to the most familiar place within a distance. We might have been closer than her flat."

"I don't think she'd be going back to her flat, Sherlock." John sighed after a moment.

Sherlock knew what he was hinting at here. He had uncovered something important. "What did you find?"

"An eviction notice. You found Toby but didn't go to her flat. The date was just for a few weeks ago. I went to talk to the land lady and she just said that she had no choice over the matter. There had been no payment and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Molly so she had to put it back on the market."

"What did she do what her things?"

"Gave them to charity. She didn't really know what to do with Toby so she let him outside. Very unsafe but you did find him."

"I'm familiar to him too. It works the same way with animals, it seems." He stated in reply to his earlier statement about Molly.

"Where would she go then?"

"There really is only one place for her to go. I need to do a little digging but I'll bring her back tonight. I'll need the good doctor to be available by the morning. I think everything will be in order by then."

Before John could say anything he was left alone. The only thing he saw was the wind as Sherlock's coat billowed behind him as he rushed down the stairs and towards the door.

He let out a sigh before shutting the door and going to sit in his chair. He took out his phone again and called up the most recent call in his phone.

St. Bartholomew Morgue was not her first place to settle into after leaving Sherlock in his home. She not knowing what lay waiting for her ventured the streets until she found her building where she had lived. Molly had been aware to the fact the had been gone for a long while. She was also aware that the bills had probably piled up and decisions had been made before she could even have a say.

It was after climbing the steps to the main door did the repercussions of her problem really become reality like literally everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. A new tenant was replaced with her name plate on the buzzer system outside. This couldn't get any worse, could it? She had survived brutality at the hands of not an unknown but someone quite familiar and then was let go. She had made it to a safe haven of sorts only to be pushed to her limits once more and now stranded out in the cold.

This was her breaking point, well almost.

It was only after she made it back to her second home - that being the lab of the morgue that the real breakdown began. The soundless crying from the previous day was nothing compared to what was to happen next.

Molly had been let in by Mike Stamford after a little bit of shock on his part. Molly just gestured for the lab upon being able to get a word in, or maybe not so much. She kept those horrible realizations at bay as she was gladly let in with Mike's keycard and given a temporary replacement until she was settled back in a place of residence. She hadn't have found a way to explain this as he had already explain that he had had gotten a call from D.I. Lestrade about her missing for awhile.

He promised to stay quiet on the affair before she could even really do anything else. There was really only other way she would have been able to communicate with him. No offense to Mike she wasn't sure he knew how to read it correctly.

She just smiles in thanks before being left alone to be reaquainted with her space.

Molly had merely walked around the large spacious room before crossing over to the side that led to the door that led down to the actual morgue where the bodies were located. She hesitated before turning the knob and quickly making her way down. It was as cold as ever here. She didn't shiver at it. If anything she just took it in again. It was one of her favorite places to be.

Molly had plenty of time to think about it as she walked over to the coat rack where she had a spare lab coat hanging there. It wasn't here's but it fit. Hers wasn't anywhere in the vicinity of the hospital. She willed herself not to think about it at the moment. She would be better if she didn't think about it.

There was already a tray as there always was of dissecting tools for autopsies near a slab where a body was already present. Someone must need to work on it. It was nearly an automatic reaction for her to move over to it.

There was the box of latex gloves sitting under the small cart of utensils. She had gloved her hands absentmindly as she looked over at the body of a man who couldn't be over the age of thirty five. Her hand had reached for a sharp blade before she could blink and she was about to start the y-incsion when it started again.

It was a flash.

_There was darkness and then there was light. A laugh that chilled the bones in her skin as she stared in both fascination and fright as a woman she hadn't seen since medical school stood in front of her. _

_Molly had been shackled against a wall. That much she knew already. There was the woman. She was grinning in the most malicious way possible._

_"Hello sweet Molly. Do you remember me?"_

_Molly balled her hands into fists and swallowed the bit of moisture that was present in her throat as she looked at her. She was confused but also very angry. She had thought she had gotten rid of her when she graduated those years ago._

_"How could I have forgotten you?" Molly replied bitterly._

The sound of the metal clashing against the cold floor as Molly shakingly dropped the scalpel that was in her hands. She backed away from the slab and rushed up the stairs back to the lab. This wasn't it. The first recollection was always the same. It was the second that always remained the same. She ripped the gloves from her hands as she paced around in the space of the lab before moving towards her office. It was still hers, she noticed.

Everything was there though she paid no mind to it as she sat down on the small sofa that was up against the wall in her small office. She had frequently took naps there when she found the time to. She was shaking so badly. It wasn't everything. This wasn't it. That's why she came here. She still had time to find somewhere that she could rest after it all came back. Because it would. It had several times since she had woken up in that murky water.

Molly's body had begun to slowly shut down as it had been doing whenever she was forced to remember what had happened to really destroy her. When that last bit of her had been taken. It was hardest to realize that for a bit she had been conscious during it.

Her body had curled up as she lay there in a messy state. There were tears. There were always tears. She tried to breathe normally to not think about it. It was inevitable however. It really truly was.

_Molly thought it had been enough. The torture she had been in those last agonizing days, hours, weeks. She wasn't sure how long it had been. She had always tried to determine but she really wasn't sure. She had been through hell._

_It wasn't over however. _

_"You don't have to do this. You don't. I don't have what you want, Clarissa." Molly pleaded as she was being held down by two men who reminded her of two of the men that she had seen in that movie about a mob father. It wasn't Scarface but it was very intense. They were both strong. _

_"You don't understand. You are ruining everything with your precious research. That doesn't need to be researched. It happened, get over it."_

_"What does my father's death have to do with you?"_

_"You'll never know now will you. I for one am very tired of your voice. It's quite irritating. It's annoying as hell. You whine too much."_

_Molly body had stilled at that statement. It wasn't that she was effected by the words, it was the notion of what was to come. Clarissa was a deranged woman now she had come to understand. Molly hadn't exactly understood why that was until now. She knew about her father. He wasn't just sick. It had happened too fast. Molly had wanted to find out for herself. Now, this woman knew something of it but there was no way she would tell her about it._

_"I'm not really into killing people. Not at the current moment anyway. However you cannot speak about this to anyone Molly Hooper. You've caused my life hell and now I shall return the favor."_

_There was a moment when Molly could have sworn she saw a bit of the young girl she had knew but in the early days of her med school years. The one that didn't want to end Molly in more ways than just being smarter. This was different. This was about her life. The moment had passed._

_The cut wasn't the part that pained Molly though most would say, "the first cut is the deepest." Contrary to that statement it was what came afterwards when the blade was put down and Molly had made herself not move. This was like post mortems except she was alive and aware. _

_It was the scalpel being shoved roughly at her neck in one hard blow that had Molly calling out for the one man she knew wouldn't come but she desperately needed at this moment. It also happened to be her last word before she blacked out from more of the not wanting to feel this agony anymore than the blood that was gushing out of her right now. _

_"SHER-LOCK!"_

It was there that he found her a couple hours later after exchanging data with his homeless informants. She had fell asleep soon after she came down from her memories. She looked interesting to him practically swimming in her lab coat snoozing away in her office.

He figured he'd find her there but didn't hurry over immediately. He had a few things to look into before he could make himself to reappear in her presence.

He didn't stay very long standing over her. He set up his laptop a few inches away from her at her desk. He had noticed there had been a bit of disturbance there. It didn't look recent however. He didn't sit down yet. He just placed his bag in the chair and carefully began to inspect the items that had been upturned.

He picked up a notebook that had pages ripped out of it and noticed a few lines of scribble that only could belong to Molly herself. She was taking notes of something. He put the notebook down again began moving papers around on the desk. He stopped when he came across a particular page of articles. It had a picture of an older man and looked to be a conspiracy type of article. He arched his brow at this. Why was Molly looking into something like that?

He went back into the notebook and used the pencil over the most recent page trick and sat there and read a bit of it. He had continued to find interesting things not only there but on her computer after cracking the login codes.

It was all pointing to one thing but he was curious over whether it all should be trusted as valuable data. He turned to look at the sleeping woman for a moment as he sat down at the desk and pulled out his phone to send two texts.

**To: J. Watson**

_**Molly is with me. Have the doctor meet us at St. Barts tomorrow morning at ten at the latest. - SH**_

**To: Mycroft Holmes**

_**Send all the information you have on the green gene theory. Needed for case, ASAP. - SH**_

A quarter to ten the next morning Molly's eyes fluttered open. She blinked a little as she adjusted her vision to the dim lighting of the office. The next room was fairly brighter. She inhaled a deep breath before turning her head to the right and seeing a smirking Sherlock Holmes.

Molly just scrunched up her face at him before sitting up and accepting the cup of coffee he had brought her. That was another odd gesture on his part. The first him being there in the first place. She remembered him telling her to leave, why was he here then?

The door of her crammed office opened just the slightest as Molly took a small sip of her beverage. It was close to the way she liked it. It needed a bit more milk in it. Molly ignored that as she looked up at a woman who had peeked her head in.

Before Molly could do anything the woman was speaking and her hands were moving in a way that gave her hope. She was signing with her hands. This was a very great thing. Molly for the first time in awhile, smiled.

**I had thought about continuing on with this very explosive scene between Sherlock, Molly and the doctor (the woman who was at the end) however with a little tweaking to the events happening in part four, it can definitely go within it. **

**Boy, am I beat after writing this. So many intense feelings that it's drained me. I was to update one more thing plus post a new Sherlolly one-shot but alas this little fic here has basically killed my energy. There is always tomorrow.**

**I'm still a bit flabbergasted at how many of you have started reading this and I have thanked most of you that reviewed on the last chapter but I feel like saying it again. THANK YOU so much for all of your feedback. You have no idea what it means to me. My inspiration truly comes from y'all being so sweet and kind. The fact that you enjoy it as much as I do is a HUGE plus!**

**I hope you liked this part too. Be sure to leave a little line of encouragement.**

**Until next time m'dears. I will see you in part four!**

**much love,**

**day**


	4. Chapter 4

**tremor.**

part_** four **_/ of five

Sherlock had never such a quick change in demeanor when it came to Molly over the past two days than he had when the good doctor had come to the room and began speaking and moving her hands around. It took him a moment after Molly began responding to the movement not in vocalization or even gesture. It was in her face, in the eyes. That was literally everyone's tell tale but somehow Sherlock thought this one wasn't different.

Molly showed no change beside the slight shaking of her hand the last time they were in the same room and she never spoke. It never really occurred to him at first that that it wasn't possible. Molly Hooper always talked.

It started to slowly make sense in his head. Especially when it came back to her last action before fleeing from the comforts of 221B. The rugged and clipped feel underneath his hand as she guided it along her neck. There had been an unjust doing there. Something sinister, it wasn't all that hard to tell.

Sherlock stopped thinking as he was brought back to the two women in the room. The doctor had moved from the doorway and had taken a seat on a wooden chair that was posted directly next to it. Sherlock had stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers at some point during the beginning of the exchange.

Molly was beginning to move too. With her hands. She paused a quick second and looked over at him. At first it looked as if she was freezing up again but she merely gestured to him and the doctor began talking to him. "Mister Holmes, do you know sign language?"

Sherlock didn't have to think about it at all. "Not well enough. I deleted those lessons. It seemed unimportant at the time." The doctor looked at him oddly before smiling.

"I'll interpret for you then. Is there anything you'd like to ask her before I begin my session with her?"

"Certainly. Would you tell me what happened to you?"

There was no interpretation needed for Molly's answer as she just shook her head and gnawed at the bottom of her lip. She looked quite frustrated. "Why ever not?" He huffed, his hand unconciously balling into a fist in his pocket.

"Mister Holmes I don't think anger is going to help this situation much. I am sure there is a nicer way to go about finding out the answers to what happened to Dr. Hooper."

Molly opened her mouth as if she was about to say something then she remembered her situation again and looked down at her hands. Her body relaxed a bit before she began to move them slowly as it seemed she was thinking about each word that she formed with her hands. "He doesn't know what nice is. Not really anyways." Molly looked up over at Sherlock as the doctor translated for her and rolled her eyes.

"I have apologized for my overly directness as you phrased it before. It's not something I can change. I am here because I wish to help you. I haven't done anything problematic since before you disappeared. I would just like to know what occurred, is that okay?"

The doctor looked between the two adults in the room and blinked a few times before she turned to Molly and said, "I sense a history between you two. Do I need to separate the two of you?" She was also smiling when she said it which gave Molly the indication that she was amused by the clear tension that had seemed to come out of nowhere. She didn't know what Molly had felt that month alone, trapped.

Molly just waited for Sherlock to say something which only was a more calm and quiet, "no."

"Now, as I feel like I'm more of a mediator than a neurologist or therapist of both which I am in case either of you were curious. I feel we should discuss the most important part of this whole ordeal before getting to the heart of your problem with each other."

Sherlock cut in before another word could be said and it made Molly want to throw something at him more than she already wanted to hit him repeatedly. "I don't have a problem. I am perfectly fine with Miss Hooper. She on the other hand seems to have some hidden hostility, it doesn't take a therapist to see that."

Molly sent a glare at him before standing up and and beginning to pace the small space that was free for her to walk. "It would be good if you didn't speak for awhile. This is just truly about Molly and what she has been through. If you continue, I will send you out."

That made him quiet immediately. The doctor just watched Molly walked a bit, observing the clear signs of both pent up frustration and anger seething from her body language. Her hands would go up into her auburn hair that was messily laying about her neck for moments where she would tug mid a stall in her footwork and then she move back again. It was as if she wanted to say something and it was really started to get to her that she couldn't just shout it.

It was very saddening to have to see that, despite the fact that the doctor didn't know the young woman personally. She had gotten a file the previous day from one of Molly's therapist from a few months ago. It was usually not great to pass along sealed records but this was a difficult situation and she felt that it would be good to know as much as she could about her potential clientele before their meeting.

She looked over at the consulting detective who had called upon her for this favor. He was much like many of the male colleagues she occasionally worked with. They were arrogant and talked the big talk about how they were greater and know much more. That wasn't what these cases were about for her. There was much more to be learned with each case and each client. It was about the understanding of the aftermath.

"You've talked to a therapist before, haven't you Molly?" She stopped her stride and looked down at the floor as she felt a questioning gaze being thrown by the only male in the room. The pathologist didn't have to look up to see the surprise in his eyes as she nodded and angled her body so that the other doctor in the room could see her hands.

"Yes. It was different, I was dealing with something more simpler. I only had him in the room."

"The passing of your dad, grieving could be much worse. Then again everyone is different when it comes to that. There are group sessions as well."

"I opted out of that. It was personal...and too many people make me feel uncomfortable. Why are you asking about that?" Molly returned back to the couch and sat down, pinching her nose. She was getting restless again but it wasn't because she was tired, Sherlock observed. Molly didn't like this conversation nor did she like that he found out in this way that she seeked help from a professional about her family. He thought so anyway.

It became clear the moment that little glimpse into a year in Molly's life that he didn't know her beyond what she allowed him to see on the outside. Appearances and behavior were different that was hidden behind the masks. There was always something he missed, but was there more. Possibly.

"To know how to go about asking certain things. It's clear you aren't comfortable with that. I'll try something different. It'll probably be best to go ahead and ask the most important thing first. Did you know whom your attacker was?"

Molly nodded again as she shut her eyes.

"Does anyone know who they were?" She meant did Sherlock have a connection to the woman who had harmed her.

She shook her head. "Not unless you were with me during high school or medical school."

"A colleague then?"

Her eyes might have been closed but there were many indicators that Molly wasn't okay with discussing this person. She was frowning and began gnawing at her lip again. It would start bleeding if she kept that up, Sherlock thought silently.

"No. You have to understand that even the nicest of people have people that dislike them for things that are out of their control."

"You mean you had an enemy?"

Molly eyes opened and she stared up at the cieling - eyes moving from each line on the square tiles. She briefly glanced in Sherlock's direction. "It was one sided, her part. Not mine. I was very studious and smart during my years of study. I guess that's something that could cause a bit of trouble. I didn't really realize it was much of a problem. I just liked to study and pass my tests or the labs. I liked it."

"You don't think very highly of yourself."

"Obviously." Sherlock breathed as he took a seat back in the rolling computer chair by Molly's desk. He fingered the set of papers that held more research. "She's good at putting herself on the back-burner if she thinks she's thought as invaluable. Though her assessment of her skill is quite wrong."

"I thought I told you to be quiet. Also, Molly says what do you mean?"

"I've never been that great at listening." He paused for a few moments and swiveled around so that he was facing Molly and stated very carefully, "You're still very smart. Anyone can research but it takes someone with courage and skill to keep digging even when it's clear that something is amiss, autopsy or otherwise."

Molly stared at him for a moment before catching herself and nodding. He could be nice, when he wanted to be she mused.

"Okay. What's her name then?"

"C - L - A - R - I - S - S - A." Molly spelled out quickly with her hands. "I don't think I ever knew her last name though."

"Why did she keep you away for an entire month?"

"She uncovered something." Sherlock stated as if it was the most logical reason. The doctor had a questioning look in her eyes that made it obvious what she wanted to know. Molly nodded once more.

"Sometimes I write articles for medical journals and I had been going back to a few of the things that my dad had told me before his death. There wasn't much but it didn't always sit well with me. There was an experiment but I didn't really know much about it except that it deals with genes. I knew one person that might know about. An old friend of my dad, his best friend actually. I never got to meet him."

"Because you disappeared."

"Coincidence? I think not." Sherlock had to butt in.

Molly gave him a half smile before remembering what she was about to discuss with the two of them. This was going to get really stressful. She didn't want to talk about it. She could already feel her body beginning to betray her.

"We can stop here, if you want Molly." Sherlock shot a glare at the doctor before standing up again.

"It won't do anything to postpone this." He muttered.

Molly didn't look at him. She knew he was right but it didn't mean she felt it was okay. None of this was okay. It all felt so wrong.

Molly's hand curled in her hair for a moment as she felt her right hand begin to shake a bit as she tried to begin forming the shapes of the words. It just wasn't working all that well. She shook her head and didn't stop for a few moments.

N - O. No. They could see it forming on her lips, repeatedly. No sound would come out but she kept at it without fail. It wasn't just this either, there was that shaking in both hands. Molly hand placed them both on her legs and she balled them up into fists out of mere fear and frustration that she couldn't do this. It wouldn't stop.

Sherlock stood up wordlessly without making a sound and crouched down in front of her like he had before back on Baker Street in his bedroom on the floor. He curled one hand around the right one then the left. He could feel the trembling at it's most intense and felt it as he fizzed out into small choppy shakes. It didn't ever stop but it had subsided a bit.

He remembered what happened the last time. Each time he touched her and she was like this, it seemed to help. He found it very strange but didn't dwell much on it. It wasn't too important.

He had thought about backing away but instead began talking carefully. "You're okay now. No, you're not okay. Not really. However you're not there. No one can hurt you, now. You're safe, Molly." His sentences were broken and clipped but it was clear he was trying to gain control of the situation. Depending on which way you were looking at it you were seeing the two sides of the man crouched in front of the very unstable Dr. Hooper.

Dr. Marlena Kilpatrick could see it too as she sat with her legs crossed - one overlapping the others. She smiled as she looked out at the exchange that on the outside looked very intimate. It was anything but that. It was possibly a bit more than that. Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper indeed have a history with one another. It is not hard to decipher that through the glances that look both uneasy but grateful and the touches that look both awkward yet gentle. There is something underlying there that not even the most best profiler which she wasn't would be able to see at first glance.

As Sherlock had said, it would take digging to get to the real issue here. There was a solution at present but how long would that last. He had been right about something else of course. Molly did need to reveal what had happened but not to a stranger. She needed to tell Sherlock Holmes. His view was the only one that matter, anyway.

Marlena was only there for guidance. Now they could do their part.

She was quiet as she left the two of them in silence.

He bought her coffee again nearly an half an hour later and placed a phone in her hand. He pulled another that looked more used from his pocket and began tapping away on it before the one in her lap startled her as it vibrated and made a beeping noise. A text message.

Molly looked up at Sherlock as she unlocked the screen of the phone and clicked on the little icon with the mail icon and saw a message from _**SH**_.

She arched her brow at him as she read the one worded message:

_**Hello. - SH**_

Molly just looked at him confused before seeing Sherlock sigh and began tapping away again. Another beep.

_**It is polite to reply when someone says hello. - SH**_

Molly read the message and proceeded to roll her eyes at him before typing a short reply.

_**I'm not an idiot. What is this?**_

Sherlock took a seat back in the chair at her desk and went back to a phone.

_**Texting. I thought that was obvious. - SH**_

_**I repeat, I'm NOT an idiot. Explain.**_

Sherlock looked up at Molly and sighed before slowly typing out a reply, reading it over a few times and then reluctantly hitting send. He picked up one of the stapled sets of papers from her desk and began looking it over more so to seem like he was doing something than to the fact he was waiting for her to reply.

_**Communication. Since well, I can't actually talk to you and understand this seems easier. Problem? - SH**_

Molly looked up at him as she read the message a few times and tried not to smile. He was trying. A very big part of her appreciated this gesture. Especially since not too long ago he had kicked her out of his house. It was a new day it seemed.

_**Thank you.**_

_**What would you like to know? **_

She sent two separate message before grabbing her coffee. She wasn't giving in. She just was tired and was willing to compromise as he seemed to be trying to be helpful. She could give a little too. Just a little.

She took a couple gulps of her coffee before reading a new message.

_**What caused the cut and scarring under your neck? - SH**_

Molly took in a few deep breaths as she tried to think of that moment without as little as many details as possible. She could tell him the smallest bit of it. She wasn't ready to go into this.

_**A scalpel and a hammer. Probably helped that two people were also holdimg me down. If you need to know my larynx is completely gone.**_

_**How do you know that? - SH**_

_**I am a pathologist. I know where every vital organ of the body is supposed to be. I know what it feels like when a part of if goes missing. There is a first time for everything.**_

_**Were you awake? - SH**_

Sherlock had put the paper down and was now staring at her. Molly had a feeling that this probably would be more important than the fact that they were finally talking about this. She also felt that if she could actually speak she wouldn't have been able to say it without breaking down.

This was that point where my mind seemed to go on autopilot and she began crying quietly. She was thankfully not a horrible crier. Her hands were shaking as she messily typed out the message and hit send. She messed up several times before being able to hit send.

Sherlock had been able to tell the moment she read the message that this was the moment that would trying change everything. Everything else was just child play before this. He knew that the answer would be yes too. She couldn't have been so upset as she was now if it was no, could she?

He hadn't really been prepared for what lay ahead in that single message. It was destructing.

_**It's the last thing I remember.**_

It was almost like nothing registered after that because it really confused him when three more messages appeared after that one. Each longer than the predecessors.

_**I thought of you while I was fading out. You probably think it's silly. I have always done such silly things though haven't I?**_

_**I wished you would have figured me out sooner. You can't when I'm not really in front of you. I'm not that important. I'm not John or Mrs. Hudson. **_

_**I was just so angry but hopeful. I wanted you to rescue me from that pain. It was horrible. The feeling of my bones being crushed only to get to this point. To silence me because to that woman I counted only in the most horrible way in her eyes. I hated you in that moment because you could have found a way out. You always find a way. I am not you, nor will I pretend to be. I am just Molly. That's it. **_

Sherlock didn't have to pretend anymore that he didn't care what happened now. It had been clear to him the exact moment the second day of her absence that he hadn't locked away that part of him that acted like her appearance in his life wasn't important. It always was. It always would be.

He hadn't been able to say it at first because he was in shock after reading those very powerful messages. He locked his phone and pocketed it as he stood up. Molly was standing in the smallest corner of the room with hand over her mouth as she held the phone in the other hand which was laying against her side.

She was crying, he noticed first before the fact that she was shaking again. Her emotions were at it's highest level, he knew as he began walking to her slowly. At this moment it was obvious that this was more than something easy to get over. This was the ultimate form of trauma. The unsettling idea that she lay in her own pool of blood dying and no one was looking for her. Him, most importantly.

It was also the ultimate lie, Sherlock knew.

He was standing a measly three feet away as began to talk. He had no plan for this but he had to let her know the truth. "Your thoughts are the things that betray you more than the reality of anything. You thought in that moment that I had forgotten about you, that I knew that you would find your way back to London if that wasn't where you were. That I wouldn't look for you at all. If you thought this to be the truth you don't know me very well.

I started looking for you after the second day that you were absent from this place. I came here two days back to back to share a bit of a big idea with you and you didn't show. I began looking that second day because I knew something was wrong. I texted you more times than I think I've ever messaged anyone. I do care despite what you think of me. I never stopped searching for you until my arse of a brother basically told me in many ways that my attempts were futile. He could not find you. The yard are a bunch of morons a part from Lestrade, of course. You disappeared and all I heard every day until the moment you arrived back in my vicinity was "She'll be back" from John. It drove me insane for weeks. The cases were just not intriguing to take my mind away from the fact that you had just left the face of the earth with no trace. I never thought to look for answers in the one place you love more than anything. You left the small trail here, hidden in plain sight.

I never stopped looking for you, Molly. Despite what you thought and what you may think you are not insignificant. You do count and that is why I will continue to search for you if you ever drift away again."

Molly stood there frozen in front of him for awhile just staring at him as if she had seen some sort of alien. He wasn't surprised. He had just said something both baffling and very sentimental when you think about it. He meant all of it though.

Molly Hooper was an important aspect in his life and he wouldn't let that change as long as he could help it. He watched as she tapped the few fingers picking that were resting against her lips for a few seconds after she came out of the shock that came with that bit of a proclamation from the man in front of her. She balled her hand into a fist before flattening it over her lips and pushing her lips against it and letting it go.

Sherlock asked it before he could really process what that was. Was it sign language or was she literally do that towards him? "What does that mean?"

Molly pulled the phone up towards her face with the other hand and typed out a quick message before placing it in her pocket.

Sherlock dug his out of his pocket as it beeped.

_**Thank you.**_

...

Molly and Sherlock arrived back to Baker Street a few hours later after a trip to Angelo's for dinner and a small walk through the park because it felt nice outside, Sherlock's idea. John was talking with someone really trying to calm them down when the duo made their way up the stairs.

Molly was the first to enter and Sherlock could hear a bit of a one-sided argument going on which meant that Molly was the other counterpart. Who was this person, he wondered as he made his way up quickly.

He stilled upon closer inspection as he realized what was happening before the woman yelled at him, saying "Everything horrible happens to her every since you appeared in her life. I am taking her as far away from her as possible. Stay away, Sherlock Holmes."

Molly looked upset as she gestured wildly with her hands in a way that Sherlock got the feeling she was trying to stand up for him as she had pointed at him but her mother wasn't having any of that. She grabbed her hand and told her to stop that before pulling her down the stairs, unwillingly.

There was another fellow in the flat still looking quite annoyed at what just happened. "She doesn't know much about you except what she's read in the papers. Nor does she listen to reason or know what Molly was just saying. I'll get it sorted out though. It's what I do in this family, anyway. I will see you soon, Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson thanks for trying to help."

Sherlock merely nodded before the man exited the flat. He walked over to the window as John began talking and looked out the window to see the man walking to another car. There had been two on the street that he had paid no attention to originally.

"What just happened, Sherlock?"

"I believe Ms. Hooper just took her daughter away."

"Aren't you going to do anything about it?"

"There is nothing to do currently, John. You don't mess with a mother's wish." Sherlock said as he grabbed his violin and began what began as a happy tune and formed into a very twisted symphony.

John just sighed. This was not good. Not good at all.

**Oh my god. I am literally too exhausted after writing all of this to say much. It is almost midnight which means I did get it up today and that makes me happy. I had an idea for this chapter, there was supposed to be this event but the storyline had a plan of it's own and it came out this way. I quite like it still. I wanna know what y'all think? This is quite long. It's scary that I did this all in one day but I hope you enjoyed. This story kinda kills my soul in the most torturous way. Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback. It makes me so happy that sometimes there are tears haha **

**I will see you soon in the final part also know as number five. Not too soon but soon.**

**much love,**

**day**


	5. Chapter 5

tremor.

part _**five**_ / of five

Sherlock Holmes was on a case the afternoon that he was reacquainted with a fellow he only truly knew as Molly's brother. He hadn't given a name that day when he spoke to him. The last day he had seen his friend and pathologist - Molly Hooper. He had seen the man first and instantly started talking to the detective who was in charge. He wasn't Lestrade, but he was one of the smarter ones.

He then went ahead and left John to handle the last minute details as he strode over to the auburn haired male who looked uncomfortable, looking around the area. He was clearly out of place. There was slight apprehension in his eyes up until the moment the detective stopped in front of him.

"Sherlock, I could have waited."

"No, you couldn't have. You're a bit out of your depth here. It's a crime scene. Unlike your sister, you don't have the ability to pretend that dead bodies don't bother you. What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Sherlock tucked his hands into his pockets. He knew why he was here but didn't feel it was right to tell him. Not at the current moment anyway. Let him talk before he loses his nerve.

"I need to discuss something with you. Privately." He said while his eyes veered to Sherlock's right. John was probably standing a few feet behind. He wasn't too far from listening.

"Walk." Sherlock nodded and the other male turned around and began talking the second Sherlock was at his side. "My name is Andrew. I don't know if you decided to check out my sister any more than what I suppose you know. It's been three months and while I think she's doing quite fine right now, I do disagree with my mother a lot. She doesn't listen to reason but that's not why I'm here. It's about Molly of course.

No doubt you've noticed certain things that she can do that most women probably can't. Her eye for observation started when she was still a kid about three or four. It's not completely uncommon for kids to ask questions but she asked more complicated questions. Words that you don't learn from watching children television came up quickly. She was reading a lot of more excelled books without anyone really knowing. I don't mean she was into college level philosophy, I just mean she was a reader. She was the first one to ask our mother about my dad before his death.

They were hushed about that type of thing for a while. She just said that dad was sick. They never really went into it before. Not even after he was buried in the ground not even then did we truly get any answers. Molly likes to be quiet when she thinks she should but when she sees some is really in trouble is the moment that she grows a bit of confidence and intervenes. I think that's what happened before when you were supposedly dead. I didn't know about her helping you, not until she told me.

Before you say anything Sherlock, I need you to know that my sister and I didn't have a good relationship when we were younger. It was not because of anything either of us had done. It's our mum. She messes a lot of things up for us. She treated me like a prince most of our childhood and it gave Molly the idea that she didn't approve her very much. I don't think it's true but clearly she doesn't agree with a lot of her choices."

"You mean her career and her affection for me?" Sherlock knew he wasn't supposed to intervene but he thought that now would be a good time to ask something. The rest of it was still being broken down in his head but this was more important.

"Yes. You of all people should know that a pathologist who happens to be a woman isn't exactly common, but I was proud of her for being a part of that percentage. Mum just neglected to really look into any of it. Anything dirty or scandalous makes her view it as wrong. It's just how she is."

Sherlock nodded and acknowledged the way that this discussion was about to go. He sighed before speaking once again. "The papers aren't a great place to scope information for facts. Nearly all of it has been slandered in some form. What did Molly tell her?"

"Exactly, what you said. It was all lies. She told her to read John Watson's blog. That's where I immediately went. He's never lied about the things that have happened before. I believe he may have been a bit angry upon your return but he accepted the fact what you did for him was more than anything he could have dreamed have happened. Molly stopped talking about you and her job to mum a couple years ago."

"It upset her." Sherlock stated.

"More than she let anyone else know. I came to see her after mum called me to complain about how Molly wasn't answering her anymore. Molly grew tired of it. I have never heard her declare anything about her affection towards you but this one time when she and mum got into a particular row about you and her play in helping you do such horrible deeds like your suicide and the body parts things. Molly only really talks to me about these things because I understand her loyalty. My wife had a difficult life before we were married as an informant for some very high up people and sometimes the lines would gray but I always knew the truth. She was willing to share that with me.

It became easier to tell the difference between the truth and a lie when it came to my sister with time to. She was reluctant to talk but at times it was clear I was her only hope."

"Why are you telling me all of this, Andrew?" Sherlock said as they came to a stop. The older man turned so that they were facing each other and smiled a solemn smile that had a glimmer of happiness to it. It was in his eyes as well.

"Molly's loyalty has always been with you. Her affection is something much bigger than something my mum can really understand because she hasn't lived it before. I do understand and I'm willing to help you get back to her, if that's what you want." There was a short moment of silence before Sherlock found himself in his mind palace for a short time. He was thinking of all the things that Molly had done for him. He had never thoroughly thought of it as more than just his manipulation at work - at least before his fall. He had seen much more of her kindness afterwards.

He looked forward to seeing more of it, if it was possible.

"Do you want that, Sherlock Holmes?" Andrew asked then.

"I would like that very much." Sherlock said slowly.

ǂ

It was three weeks later that Mrs. Hudson came up to 221B cheerfully to deliver a package to Sherlock that came in two days prior. "You boys were away and it slipped my mind until now. I was thinking about Molly. She's rather sweet and the sender's name is also Hooper. That can't be a coincidence, eh?" She giggled as she gave it to the tall man who had just about rushed over to where she was standing upon the words Molly and sender. John Watson looked on rather amused as his best friend left the front room to his own room with the brown wrapped package. It was wrapped with a brown piece of rope.

_Odd. _John thought before going back to his computer where he was typing up his latest blog entry about the case they had just completed just a few hours ago.

Sherlock carefully tore the parcel open dropping it down on his bed. There wasn't much there – a few loose pages with messy scrawl that was too close together to be considered female and too small to be written by a child. He didn't pick them up, instead moving on to the other items that were loose. A small square envelope used specifically for discs of some kind. Possibly a CD or a DVD. He picked it up as his eye got caught on something glimmering beside one of the pages. He snatched that up as well, and found a necklace which upon closer inspection was something had seen Molly wearing before at the lab.

It was all silver, a loose chain with a medal of sort hanging from it. Sherlock tossed the medal in his hand to flip it on the other side where there was engraving upon it. He had seen it before on another case. It was odd, to have one of these again within his grasp. He looked at it for a brief moment before moving back to the pages. He sat down, forgetting for a moment that he needed his computer for the disc and began to read the scribe that was written in ink that came from any pen you could buy at a store. Nothing of true significance there.

_**Hello Sherlock,**_

_**The tag belongs to my father but Molly thought I should give it to you. I think she thinks you'll be looking into his death a bit more closely. I wouldn't know if you've even begun to do that. **_

_**I don't know where to even start here with talking about much as I was called away upon our encounter. I can assure with great confidence that Molly is doing better now. I somehow had forgotten to mention the crazy treatment fiasco my mother had put all of us through upon getting back home. We had been to nearly ten hospitals and research centers before Molly had a bit of a breakdown. **_

_**Of course, it was hard for my mother to see that. She was on a mission to find out whether or not there was some way to undo what had been done to my sister's larynx. I think both Molly and I knew beforehand that it was futile to seek much help. A biopsy wouldn't do much good. The first x-ray had given just as much as we needed to know than what three "specialists" would need to know. I worked in a clinic for a while as a teenager so I did know when things were a loss cause so to speak. **_

_**That doesn't mean I didn't wish there was some way that we could fix the issue with Molly. However, my dad had made sure we learned sign language as kids. It was a skill he thought would be useful at some time or another. I think it was very smart of him to do that. Mum, never say the point of course but she didn't see the good in a lot of things he did. She did still love him at the end of the day. **_

_**Anyway, there isn't much of the notes that I could find left of my dad's research but I attached them on the disc along with a few other videos I have taken of Molly with the kids over the past couple months. If you have an interest in any of that, that is. I thought it would be nice for you to have that until you found your way here. All is well here at the moment. **_

_**Andrew Hooper**_

Sherlock looked at the front paper a little longer and he found himself unconsciously smiling at how similar the two Hoopers were when it came to communication of any kind. Both were inadequate when it came to dialogue, apart from the important portions. The transitions were an area of nervousness and stumbling. Possibly came from their father than their mum. Clearly she had no reservations for making her opinion known.

That didn't bother him in the slightest way. He was just as blunt when it came to his deductions as he was told on more than one occasion by John. What did bother him was that she thought so lowly of him that he would intentionally cause harm to her daughter. Molly Hooper was just as important to him as Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and about the same level as importance as John Watson. He would never wish for their harm, sometimes knowing him did just that. It didn't mean he was okay with it.

He was never okay with anyone getting hurt; it angered him when he could have stopped it. When comes to what happened to Molly he became more and more angered that he hadn't seen the problem. Granted, Molly hadn't seen the problem until her captor was revealed and she accepted what happened. He still didn't feel it right, that it couldn't be undone. It bothered him most that he couldn't tell her how much he wished it could be changed. Not only the fact that she was stuck with one way of communicating but that frustration was something that was much easier to be seen when someone refused to acknowledge that they either didn't know how to sign or didn't want to try to communicate. That would be difficult to deal with.

Sherlock - being one of the few that had learned to sign but had forgotten it. There were little things that he deleted when it came to relevance or lack of importance. He had since seeing that Molly did seem to like it better when she could make her voice known with the doctor who had helped bridge the gap they had had, tried to remember but it had been gone for far too long. He had gone to the library and close book stores within walking distance plus a few cab rides to get books on this sort of thing but it wasn't that easy.

He didn't work with his hands beyond holding things to tip or move things around for experiments and cases. This language was an art that would take a bit of patience and skill to get down. He almost gave up once, if it weren't for meeting that doctor in passing once. She had begun to help him. He had thanked her more times than he usually spoke gratitude towards anyone but this was a special case. He wanted to be able to talk to Molly. He could talk verbally he knew but he wanted to be able to understand her. He relied on texting as a form of communication but it couldn't be enough for this.

He opened his laptop which was near him and popped the disc into it without much pause. He made sure to have the volume at a considerable level before clicking play in the small window that came up. Nearly everything he expected to see from a normal person's home video was in this two and half minutes clip. It was all Molly and it brought a rare smile to his face.

The first few moments were of her and a small girl who had the same auburn hair as the pathologist, they were walking about hand and hand outside. Molly turned a moment as if noticing the man behind the camera and both her and the little girl turned around and smiled, waving all the while. Then it shifted to a different moment when Molly was sitting at the table by herself. She was reading something with concentration etched in her face. The deep but soft voice of Andrew Hooper could be heard for a moment as he asked, "Do you want to say something?" That gave him the clue she did know she was being recorded.

Her fingers fell from the page from the book she had been reading and then she blinked with her lip tucked between her teeth. She was thinking for a few seconds before her hands came up and she was signing something with a smile on her face. It started off with a wave, and then eight quick movements which Sherlock could decipher without having to look into any of the books that were sitting on the small table he used as a night stand. "Hello, S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K."

The alphabet was the most basic thing to learn in most languages, sign was the same he found. He learned it first before learning easier phrases and he was getting better at the complex ones. It wasn't something that could just be learned in a sitting or even a week. It took time and patience. If you messed up, it was okay as he had been told by a few of the people he had come to allow help him in this new task. It was all new to Sherlock. He didn't like working with others all that much. Many times it was working with others that changed his perspective as he could call this a fact from working with John Watson for nearly four years now. This was a new avenue however; John Watson was alongside him learning this new skill too. Although not as much but he didn't ever leave Sherlock to do this alone. If only to be there to observe Sherlock fail, get aggravated for a moment then get back to it again. It was all about learning. This wasn't elementary.

Sherlock put his laptop back down and went to the extra pages that were filled with the scrawl of someone who was both in a hurry but thorough. There wasn't much as Andrew had stated in his letter but there was enough for Sherlock to begin his investigation. Yes, he could treat it as such. There was a hidden crime that yearned to be uncovered if not for a fee but for research. It's not as if there comes a day when someone you know seeks an answer to a question and there comes a consequence for it. That makes it all the more worth finding out. At least it does to the consulting detective.

ǂ

Molly Hooper has settled into a bit of a normal life outside of the constant goings on of London town. She had felt odd waking up the first few nights when she found herself in her old room in her family's home. It was a bit of a shock both hot and cold. First came the realization that her mother had really gone this far to make her get back home. It was no surprise to her but she hadn't wanted to be here.

It was never that she didn't like being in her old home again. It was the fact that in a way she had been forced to go. No, wait retract that statement she was indeed forced to go. There really was one reason why: her voice couldn't be heard. She couldn't be heard and it really screwed things up. No amount of wild gestures as it looked like would help change that. A part of her felt that Sherlock had been at fault there too. Not even two hours after they had basically laid everything out on the table and had dinner together (which by the way she never thought would happen outside her own home when she had been hiding him), she was being dragged basically out by her mother who never listened to any reason. Her resentment towards his lack thereof action during that time had faded rather quickly as she thought about. Plus, Andrew had helped a bit there as well. He was good at that too. He knew how to calm her down and help when he knew he could.

She was happy to have him in her life, though they didn't see much of each other until this happened; until her life had changed unwillingly and now she was stuck back at home. He had been willing to make it a bit easier for her. He had been looking into something that he thought she wasn't aware of. He of all people knew she could easily find a way around someone's barrier and find out what they really were doing. She just had to sneak about but she eventually got to the gist of it. He was planning to bring her and Sherlock back together.

He hadn't exactly written out but there were enough signs for her to know what he was doing. She had hugged him the next morning that he came by with his daughter – Anna who wanted visit her auntie Molly. He had been caught off guard but after the embrace she just blew him a kiss which was the sign for thank you, and he just smiled. He didn't even ask what it was for, he had already known. She had a feeling he had left his "plan" out in the open on purpose. He wasn't as forgetful as he liked to seem at times.

He was just her older brother and he genuinely cared for her.

They never talked about it in front of their mother. Nor did she ask about the suddenly videos that had been taken over the past couple months; little snippets over time. Andrew had been surprisingly quiet about how long it would take for things to get better. For they were worse before they were ever better. Molly could vouch for this as a fact, one of many cases was the first two weeks of her mum taking her to different "specialists" who were supposed to have known how to undo this "unjustly crime" as she had often phrased it. Molly had tried to stop her after the second day but her mum was very insistent about fixing her.

Molly didn't need to be fixed; she knew how to manage this way. She had helped others who had lived this way when she was still in medical school. It wasn't anything particularly new or difficult. It was her life now and her mother had to come to terms with that. It took a massive meltdown in the middle of another meeting with a man whom had supposedly cured people with her condition before. Molly had cried with sobs catching in her throat. No one could hear it but Andrew was sitting by her and he took her in his arms. That was when he had spoken up, loud and clear. "That's enough mum. Don't you see what you're doing? Molly has never needed to be fixed; this isn't something that can be undone. The first five doctors told you this as Molly has tried to tell you since the first day you brought her back home. She can live like this; you're putting us all through hell with these meetings. You need to learn to accept the fact that yes, Molly went through an ordeal but she's not dead. She's alive and breathing. Dad has always accepted her as she was, you need to begin to or else I'm taking her with me and you won't see her until you get your act together. I'm sorry but I'm looking out for my sister's best interest and this is not it."

Their mother had just looked at Andrew with a deep frown etched in her face. She stood and apologized to the doctor before beckoning them to come along. It wasn't until they were in the car and on the way back to the Hooper family home did anyone speak. Of course, Mrs. Hooper was the first to do so. "You think _**he's**_ in her best interest? That disgraceful detective genius! How could you think that he could help when I am her mother? I am her blood, he is just a man." She growled.

"You have a hard time listening to the truth when it doesn't fit your opinions and thoughts. Molly has always been happy with Sherlock Holmes. Whether he was an ass to her or not, it doesn't matter. She loves him, mum and I think the feeling is mutual. You weren't seeing what I saw when you dragged her out of his home. He was conflicted on what to do. I think that that is not something that happens for him often when it comes to personal areas. He is not known to be a caring individual apart from those who mean the world to him." He paused as he looked at his mother who was driving. Molly was curled up on the seat in the back; she had fallen asleep by the time they had left the hospital.

"Have you been keeping this to yourself, this entire time? Just waiting to spit your fiery words at me, Andy? Do you hate me that much?"

Andrew let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. He counted backwards from one hundred, only being able to stop when he reached sixty-four to speak to her. "I don't hate you, mum. You just don't see as Molly and I do. Dad would be proud of how Molly has lived her life. When you lashed out at her, he was there to help her as I should have been. I too was wrapped up in your pride for me for a while before I was able to see what you were doing. You had chosen a favorite and left Dad to be the one to craft Molly into the wonderful person that she is. You may not see it but I have since the day he died. That day changed all of us, whether you want to think of it or not. My sister is a wonderful person as are the people who she surrounds herself with. Though you wish she would have went a different path she has excelled tremendously, and that is something I am proud of." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Sherlock Holmes is another person who has helped Molly. Despite his outlandish ways I think Molly saw what Dad saw in you. He told me about how you were courted and how you had your moments when you weren't so evil. You are that despite the way you view yourself, you are not a nice person when it comes to some people. He saw something in you and Sherlock has done the same for Molly. Granted, he has been a bit slower about it I do feel that that's just the way his mind works when he is trying to not be human. However, he is that. You are right he is a man but he is the man for my sister. His eyes show his soul and his soul is constantly at battle for what to do when it pertains to my sister. Whether you want it to happen or not he will find a way back to her and that will be a great day. You need to learn to accept our lives as we live them or you will lose us. I know you love us but sometimes you love too hard. I know that you don't want to lose up, not like how you lost Dad."

He stopped for a moment, hesitating as he decided if he wanted to continue with this conversation. He hated hurting people, he rarely did it intentionally. He wasn't trying to hurt his mother either. This was about her seeing the facts from the lies. He was tired of the lies and deception of the truth. Heavens knows he had enough of that as a boy. They were all adults here and there was a way to move forward.

He decided to wait until he took Molly to her room as they had arrived back home to continue this conversation over tea and coffee. He had tea whereas his mother was the one who had coffee. It wasn't nearly as common but it did happen in the Hooper household upon stressful situations. This was the epitome of that.

They sat in the living room and sipped silently before Mrs. Hooper told him to speak whatever else he wished to say. She was giving him the opportunity. It made Andrew a bit reluctant because he knew how quickly someone could be torn apart by stating truths in this house. It was one reason why Molly had abruptly left after she graduated high school and headed straight to London. She was a strong person but she hated conflict and a huge conflict had arisen as they buried their father.

"Molly told me about her research into the project Dad had been working on before he died. No, you wanted to hear it all so I am not holding back any longer." He pressed on as he saw the way his mum started to object to the discussion before he even got to the murky details. "You always thought she was strange for wanting to find the answers to things that were odd and gross. Like how our bunny died. This was our father though and I think in a way I think that's what pushed her even more to go into pathology. She wanted to find out what happened to him and maybe to save someone else before it happened again. Dad died years ago but I think for Molly she just needed to know that he didn't die because of someone else. That he wasn't killed, I would be upset to find out that that was what happened. I love Dad and I don't want his death to be because of someone killing him. Murder is something Molly has been knee-deep in ever since she first entered the real world. It doesn't scare her to go the distance to find answers because that's what she truly wants. She wants to find the truth, the facts.

I won't pretend to know what drew her to really dig for the answers this time. However, she did find out many things that got her in trouble. Someone took her larynx out because she had uncovered a large chunk of the truth and I think she was on the verge of uncovering something huge. I have a feeling it was someone she knew too. We haven't really talked about it since you've been insistent about this meetings but I think it's best if we find out the truth now. It'll be easier to deal with these repercussions if we do."

"If you're so positive about this, then how do you suppose we do that? We can't just go looking for answers look what happened to Molly. She's not only your sister but my daughter, Andrew. I don't care what you think you know about my feelings towards her. I do love her and I want what's best for her. I will admit that I made a rash decision taking her away from London like that but it was best at the time. I did not lie when I said that Sherlock Holmes did bad things to my daughter. I know he's made her do things that just aren't correct. I was no accusing him of harming her directly however it is a fact that the people who surround him are put in danger. That is what I was referring to. Do not make me into a lying careless mother. I am not one. It was time that she came back home. She needs to be here."

"Who are you to decide where she needs to be? Molly is a grown woman. Yes, her situation isn't ideal but she was finding a way to live with that. She remembered the one thing that she was taught as a child. To use sign language and use it as her voice. She doesn't need her vocal chords to do that. If you ever cared to read her articles in the medical journals you would see that she is not a small minded person. She has enough knowledge to share with many people."

"I never knocked her mind, both of you are smart. I just wish she used it for something better. Cutting up bodies is not a way to live."

"In who's eyes? She has been doing just fine by doing just that for years in London. You can't just go changing things just to bend to your will. It will not work anymore. She can always go back. She will go back."

"I want her to be here. It is not a selfish wish brought on by my demands. It is a mother's wish to have her daughter by her side again. Molly has never truly tried that with me before."

"Whose fault is that?" He said quickly. Andrew was usually a reserved person but he couldn't do it anymore. The fact that he was being bold enough to question his mother about her ways was enough of a statement than anything else.

"I get it, Andrew. I was not a mother to Molly as a child. I focused on you because I saw that your potential was more easily accessible. She didn't want to try with me."

"Are you sure about that? Did you ever try to help her? You were our critic more than our mother. You pushed me into the direction you wanted me to go, I eventually left too. Molly found a way out before you could ask her to do something. She was the smarter one of the two of us. You might want to try harder because this road is not going to help anyone."

Andrew decided to stop after that. He felt like he was losing this battle. So, he left for home after that to be with his wife and daughter. This was only the beginning, he found. A change had seemed to happen gradually after that with his mother, Molly as well as himself.

ǂ

Molly had more than one favorite memory when it came to the time she spent with her Dad before his death. The walks they took at dawn had to be her favorite. As a little girl he would wake her up, although sometimes she would be a bit sleepy she slipped on one of the much larger but comfy sweaters that she had grown attached to out of more comfort than how it made her look then would take his hand and they would walk out to the back of the house. They moved silently as not to wake mum or Andrew as they were already sleeping and exit down the stairs that led to the grassy ground and to the trees.

It was never more than an few hours when they would dally around. Sometimes they were quiet but on the rare occasion when her dad was up for talking he would tell her things that she had to come to keep with her, always. One of her favorite talks was about the wondrous people that her father had met. He talked about a couple of them during her childhood and even more as she grew closer to her graduation from high school. She had come to know more about him and the adventures than her mum had, she realized. Molly never disclosed anything that was said between them with anyone. It was their small but very precious time.

It was only as he grew sicker did it occur to her that he really delve deep into his mind and give her wise words. Things he stated she would learn later but it was important to know before things got tricky. One of the most important ones had been about finding love. He was a man of science much like Sherlock but he was more in touch with his feelings she realized later as she thought about this time with her dad. He was able to give her one huge sound of advice that she came back to when times were tough with not only with Sherlock but before him with the few that she dated for a time.

_William Hooper's hair was always much redder than is female counterpart in Molly's mother and Molly had come to like it a bit more seeing as her hair was a mixture of the two of her parents. It was currently being wisped as the winds of the night as she and her father sat under a willow tree a bit further out than what could be seen from the back porch. They had been here a little over an hour just listening to the wind and the little bit that nature was singing. He told her once, "The world is always talking you just have to let yourself be taken away with it and hear what they're saying. It's the same way with people. You have to be vigilant and cautious or things could be disastrous, dear. Trust yourself. That includes your heart mostly, instincts are good but make sure to follow what you think is best even if everyone else thinks you are wrong. No one is entirely wrong, there are two different truths. One in which involves facts and ones that deal with hidden truths. You just need to decipher which ones you are looking for. It works with relationships too, whether you think you love someone or if they are just your friend. Use the process of observation when you really need to. It will always lead you home. This is most important Molly."_

She finds it a bit funny that the man who she considers a friend as well as the person she has loved without really being with him as one should be when they love with someone has a mind nearer to her father's than she ever realized. They both used the power of observation or deduction as Sherlock likes to call it. Her dad used it more so within his work and never for manipulative purposes. That is not to say she hasn't seen that Sherlock has done the exact opposite to her when he needed to do. She always sees both sides to the person; with the exception to Jim Moriarty.

She remembers what Sherlock told her one of the days when she was still hiding him, "He is a master of spinning his web and you were not the only one who was deceived, I too didn't see his tricks until later. Worrying never helps, Molly."

Molly thinks now that she is thinking more of her father as well as Sherlock Holmes because she is being left with her thoughts more when she can't just utter them out like she would. Nor would she enjoy spewing these things to her mum if she had the chance. She knew that her mum didn't enjoy talking about either man. She often changed the subject during their few talks. It just made it easier for Molly to stop talking to her altogether.

A few days before a surprising visit from the man himself Molly finds herself in an awkward talking with her mum starting it. "If I am to allow this relationship between you and that detective, I'd like to know more about him. What is it that you see in him?" Molly could tell from the way her mum slowly spoke that she is trying at least to not come off as a bitch about the matter but at the same time it does make her feel happy to be venturing into a more nicer side that had never really been there with an exception of few times when Molly was still a toddler.

Molly was aware that the only way to communicate with her mother couldn't be through her hands. She had to write it down. Her mother didn't have a cell phone so the texting bit was out. She did have paper nearby on the table where she was sitting continuing to read one of the textbooks Andrew had gotten her from a bookstore near his house. Anna – his wife had suggested it as she knew that Molly was most likely to enjoy reading that material than being bored all day long.

She took up one of the markers that had been left by her niece a few days ago when she was last here. Molly really thought about a way to describe why Sherlock though he hadn't really been aware of it apart from the fact that she found him physically appetizing (leading into his manipulative compliments in the morgue), made her happy and why she wanted to be with him again if only for a strong friendship which they had begun to weave over the past couple years. It had become a bit different she knew and that was the part that would be hard to describe in a single sentence.

Instead she went with the truth. It would always lead her home; she smiled in thanks to her father for that sound advice. It really had stuck with her for a very long time. She began writing carefully as to not smudge the ink and to make it clear enough for her mum to read. It had been awhile since her last need to write anything.

She slid it over to her mum who had waited patiently for her response. Her mum took to reading it aloud not that Molly minded. They were the only two currently in the house. "When you take away the fact that he has a massive mind full of facts and information that most people don't need to know or care to know he is just a man, as you said. His human parts of him that he shows me when I need him to are what make me happy the most. Sure, I could have just grasped onto the fact that he is not only intelligent and beautiful in his appearance but I am not someone who cares for that. I like him because he is human even though he despises it wholeheartedly. Ironic, if you know what other's think of him."

Her mum just raised an eyebrow at her daughter who had returned back to her book. It was almost as if it didn't bother her in the slightest that she had basically told her own mother than she loved a man who others didn't enjoy the company of unless they too were used to his ways. "What do they say about him?"

Molly turned the page on the book and looked up with a small smile on her face. It was almost teasing in ways. Her mother couldn't help but think she looked like her father when she did that. Oh, how she missed that man.

This was how they spent the next two days. Discussing a man that Molly cared for almost as much as her mother loved her father. She wouldn't be able to make absolute sure of it until she saw it with her own eyes. She would, she knew.

_**Three days later…**_

They say the body is able to connect with trauma much faster than the brain does. It takes a little longer for the neurons to send the signal up to the brain and to the specific areas it should. Molly had more or less known this to be fact over the past nine months. Though she never spoke of it, the tremors have never left. They had come and went mostly during the night when she could be alone. At times it only lasted five minutes – two if she could will herself to calm down enough to make it stop.

There hasn't been a record of someone having them from just anxiety or anticipation of a moment. Molly figures this was her issue the night before when she lost control. Andrew had stayed thankfully and had been there to try to help. It did take a good three hours and a little singing on his part for her to go to sleep. She had woke again though and only then did her mum make her take a sleep aid. It really shouldn't have been that bad. She had been getting better.

It is no surprise to Andrew Hooper that his sister is still sleeping when their guests arrive. He hadn't told Molly that they were coming today but maybe she had found out anyway. He wasn't absolute sure. He can't help thinking that is why she had such a bad night. If he can be honest, it scared him to have her like that. It wasn't as bad the first few nights as it had been during this week.

Sherlock had called four days ago to let them know that he would be coming with some news. Andrew figured it had to deal with their father's death. Maybe he had found something in his investigation. It was months ago that he had given the notes to the detective and although he had been hopeful he hadn't exactly thought that he would find anything. The person who had taken his sister had to have tried to destroy her research, the fact that there was more of a link out there made it obvious that there could be trouble ahead. The man hadn't sounded the least bit worried about anything when he had notified him of his visit for this day.

It certainly didn't put him at ease with the problems of the previous night. Anna had brought Kyla – their daughter this morning because she had asked about Daddy and Auntie Molly. The young girl had ended up falling asleep during the drive over so Andrew took her to her aunt's room and let her snuggle up beside her. It was a sweet sight; he left the room smiling as he closed the door and joined his mother and wife in the living room for biscuits and tea.

It was a bit early but the tea was needed to calm him down as well as his mother, he was sure. She had nearly had a breakdown of her own at the sight of her daughter having tremors in her arms for such a long length of time. She wanted so badly to take her to the hospital. Andrew argued that he could get it under control; he did another hour later thankfully.

Sherlock Holmes and his friend Doctor Watson arrived about three hours later. Andrew was the first to greet them at the door and letting them in. Sherlock gazed around the area of the front room carefully. If one wasn't used to him they would think he was looking for something specific. Andrew had a feeling he knew who that was exactly but waiting for whatever was to come with his mother and the tall detective before he would show him where she was.

His mother approached him wearily upon his entrance into the living room where they were all seated. His hands had been tucked in his pocket after shaking Andrew's hand and reluctantly accepting the hug that Anna had given him. He was a cautious person, she concluded before speaking to him. "Have a seat, Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson." Sherlock glanced at her briefly before doing as she asked and speaking a pleasantry of his own about her nice home.

"You were investigation my husband's death, I hear." She started before anything else could be said.

Andrew sighed but straightened up at the topic of discussion.

Sherlock seemed to hesitate a moment before he spoke. "Yes, it was quite interesting to say the least. I thought it would be better if I waited for your daughter. However, I see you'd like to know now."

"Molly is sleeping; she had a bit of a bad night." Anna said while frowning. A frown appeared on both John and Sherlock's faces as well.

There was a distinct moment of confliction on both Sherlock's body as well as in his eyes before he spoke. "Could I see her a moment before we continue?" He was looking at Andrew more than anyone else in the room.

Andrew stood up before his mother could decline that option. "Sure, c'mon."

Sherlock trailed behind him through the kitchen towards the hallway that seemed to tuck away. There were several doors down that path. They stopped at the second one on the left and Andrew slowly opened the door. It was dark in the room, a contrast to the sunny weather outside. He looked around briefly and noticed the drapes that were closed on the fair side of the room. The detective couldn't see much but the light from the hallway did give him the first glimpse of Molly. He bit back a smile as he saw her curled up on her side with her arm around the little girl whom he remember faintly from the video clips that Andrew had sent. Her niece, he presumed.

Andrew closed the door then once he was sure Sherlock had seen enough and they headed back into the way they had come. Before they could get past the kitchen Sherlock had grabbed the man's arm to stop him. Andrew was a little startled but sighed in relief as if he was waiting for Sherlock to stop him from going back in the living room. "How bad was last night with Molly?" Sherlock asked. Andrew noticed that the man didn't stray from looking at him this time. It gave him the idea that he was thoroughly interested in the matter.

Andrew gave him a slight smile before he spoke low in hushed tones. Despite the fact they were just near the counter and nowhere near the door that led back into the room where his mother and wife were waiting with Doctor Watson, he felt that it was best to keep his voice at more of a whisper. "The worst one since she's come back home. The first tremor stayed for three hours and then she slept for a while without waking up, but then she popped up again and couldn't go back to sleep for a good two hours. Mum gave her something to help her sleep and she's been asleep ever since. She should be up soon, though."

"You helped her." Sherlock stated with a nod as he continued to stare at the older Hooper.

"Yes," was the only thing Andrew said before they all went back into the room with the others. Sherlock sat back down in the chair that he had taken a seat in before. It was rather larger and worn but apart from that there weren't too many problems with it. He glanced at each of the others before he began talking. "Allen Hooper was by all means a smart man and that was what became a problem during his last few hours. He saw a problem in the project he was working on with a few others. One was with the woman who had taken Molly father. He too was very smart but he was desperate to get the gene idea off into higher places. When Allen figured out that he was going to try to make it into a weapon he started to question him and nearly got around to leaving the project all together. However, that didn't sit well with the other parties. The father of the woman whose name is Clarissa Mars. As much like her father she enjoyed the science of different fields and she was very proud of his accomplishments. She became secretly aware of his proposition to use the project as a weapon and after he went into hiding for the murder of Allen. Yes, he had done it using the serum he had been concocting behind Mr. Hooper's back. Clarissa vowed to protect her father's goal because someday it would become real. When Molly began her own research into the project having I suppose wanting to know what the last piece of work he had done before his death, this became a problem and there came the plan to cut her out of the picture. It did help in Clarissa case that she had previous ties to Molly from school. She had been following her ever since their graduation from med school."

"Have you found this Clarissa then?" The older of the Hooper's asked softly as she wiped her face. This always came back to her husband's last days. If only he had gotten out sooner, things could be different she couldn't help but thinking.

"Yes." John Watson said before Sherlock could give out one of his retorts that would probable dig his grave. "She as well as her accomplices were picked up a few days ago after a bit of an altercation with Sherlock. I'm sure they won't see the light of day for a very long time."

"Thank you, Mister Holmes." Molly's mum told him as she looked over to him again. She had done her best to not make eye contact with him for fear she would actually see what Molly had told her. That human side of the man was rather obvious. He had gone to such lengths to make sure her family were unharmed. Did that mean she liked him more? Probably not, but he did have her respect for doing that for her daughter.

The sound of grumbles from unfed bellies brought the nurturing side of the woman who at times wasn't very nice. She asked for Anna's assistance in the kitchen as she got ready to make food. That left just the three men of Molly Hooper's life sitting alone in the sitting area.

Sherlock soon heard a beep from his pocket.

.

.

.

.

Molly was filled so many emotions upon her descent from her room into the living room. She had bypassed her mother and Anna to go sit in the living room. She was still dressed in her pajamas as she started to walk into the room. She staggered back upon seeing Sherlock Holmes walking along the wall looking the pictures that were on display there. He was here. She hadn't expected it at all.

Instead of continuing on into the room she retreated back to her room where Kyla was still sleeping and began to get dressed into warmer clothes. She brushed a comb through her hair as she tossed her phone into her pocket. It hadn't really been of much use lately. It was merely there reminded her that the last moment she was within the same radius of the man himself they were texting about not so happy affairs. She did not think of it much as she made sure that Kyla was covered up more securely before walking back into the kitchen.

She placed a finger against her lips when she saw the two women begin to talk to her. She was trying to be as discreet as possible. He had been a surprise to her today and so she wanted to surprise him in a way he liked. She took the offered glass of water from her mum and drank it slowly before smiling at her and walking towards the doorway that led into the living room.

Sherlock had moved onto the few photos of Molly and her father. All had been taken by Andrew as he liked taking photos and wanted to try out his new camera on his family. Some of her favorite days had been added to that wall. She smiled before pulling her phone out of her pocket and sending a one worded text. Sherlock seemed to be lost in thought for a moment when he felt the buzz and sound of his text indicating tone; a beep.

Both Andrew and John stared at him puzzled before the brother looked over and saw Molly hidden just past the corner. He just smiled at her before returning back to looking puzzled as he would have still been if he hadn't known his sister as well as he had come to.

Sherlock unlocked his phone and smiled at the text he had received. He looked over to the doorway and saw Molly peeking around the corner with a smile on her face. She soon backed away and Sherlock looked at the message once more before another came.

_**Hi.**_

_**Follow me?**_

Sherlock just pocketed his phone before beginning to walk towards the entrance to the kitchen. Only two women were in there. He stopped for a moment before he saw that the back door that led to the outside had been left open. He shook his head at what Molly was doing before seeing the way that the two women had stopped for a brief second to see what he would do before resuming their work of making breakfast.

He slipped outside; closing the door once he made it out onto the porch. He saw the barest flick of her auburn tresses as she rushed behind the trees that were a bit further out into the area. He soon followed her as it was her request and found himself walking a bit more into more trees that led into a trail of acorns and leaves that were left there.

He smiled when he found her standing there against a tree with her phone in one hand and twirling a small flower in the other. It was then that he notices the small spot of flowers that sprouted out of the ground near the tree. She had already known they were there. So, she had planned this. He smiled at her before walking over with his hands in his pocket. He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him. "Hello." He said as he bent down and angled his head so that he could see her up close.

She put her phone away briefly as she signed out the greeting that he remembered so well from the frames of the video clip. "Hello, S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K."

Sherlock took his hands from his pocket then, confusing her a bit as he began to slowly form a phrase with his hands. Molly's eyes brightened a bit as she realized her had learned her language. "How are you?" He asked her. She saw the way his lips formed the words as he formed the signs for each of them.

Instead of answering that question she said something different. "You learned." She paused a brief moment as if thinking if she really wanted to go there. "You learned for me."

Sherlock too seemed reluctant to say anything either through his hands or verbally. He inhaled a little air. The scent of the woodsy air mingled with Molly's natural aroma from her shampoo, it was strawberries he remembered and he shut his eyes for a moment taking a mental snap shot of this moment before he responded. "Well, yes." He spoke in his rough baritone.

It was because of this admittance that Molly found herself not being able to respond with anything with her hands. What could she say to that? It had been just one question in her language but she knew how impatient this man could get. She had a feeling he knew more than that simple phrase. It's what had her reaching up and grasping the back of his head, his curls entangled through her fingers and pressing her lips against his. He was willing to break a barrier than not many are willing to and speak to her in the only way he knows she can. That is something extraordinary. That is why she kisses him.

Sherlock is taken off guard for a brief moment as he presses his lips back against hers softly. The feeling of another's lips against his own is interesting. It feels better knowing that it is someone who has changed him in many ways. It is why as he breathes in and takes a little more in this kiss that he reaches down and links their hands in a tight clasp. Fingers overlaying each other as he becomes a little more passionate about something else. Kissing is simple but touching and holding has more of greater meaning than he once thought it would. It's about a connection that could only be met by a simple grasp. He enjoys the feel of it, the feel of her.

Something is bubbling inside him he knows but pushes away the idea of dissecting them for a little while as he takes her in his arms. They have long separate from kissing and Molly's head is resting on his shoulder. He has his arm around her waist while his other hand is joined with her own. He finds it very nice to be in this moment with her. Perhaps it had taken too long. He isn't quite sure but he enjoys it more so as he begins to sway unconsciously in a little dance as the winds whip around them in the early morning light.

Mrs. Hooper is watching from around the next set of trees along with her son and daughter-in-law. She can see it now. She looks up to the sky as she is brought back to a time when a love with her husband was just starting out. Molly and Sherlock remind of this. She simply smiles up as if he can see her and this moment between their daughter and a man she realizes that is perfect for Molly.

_Thank you, Allen._

**HOLY SHIT.**

**Well it is an understatement to say this became the longest chapter I have ever written in any form of writing (original or fics). I am so happy to finally have finished it though. It has taken me awhile to do it as most of you who follow me on Twitter and Tumblr know. I exceeded the limit of words I figured it would take to complete as well. Over 10k of actually words in this final part, I don't even know how to say how grateful I am to all of you who have read and told me about how much you enjoyed the story. I hope this chapter is taken as a nice close to the five parter.**

**It won't be the last five parter, I must tell you. I do have another idea for one. This was such fun to do. Thank you all a billion times for enduring this little fic with me. It really means the world.**

**Be sure to leave me your final thoughts. Who knows I may add a side-shot to give a bit of an update on this verse. **

**I will see you all very soon with something.**

**much love,**

**day**


End file.
